


Tie me up

by Louhetar



Series: Jonmund Tumblr Prompts [5]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Art, Bondage, Consensual, Consensual Kink, Consensual Sex, Dom/sub, Embedded Images, Established Relationship, Fanart, Husbands, Jon of The Free Folk, Jonmund, Kink, Light Masochism, M/M, Oral Sex, Original Art, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Post-Episode: s08e06 The Iron Throne, Praise Kink, Restraints, Rope Bondage, Safe Words Usage, Sex, Working Out My Feelings Through Fic, healthy BDSM, i should be asleep
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-17
Updated: 2019-09-17
Packaged: 2020-10-20 07:56:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,068
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20671916
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Louhetar/pseuds/Louhetar
Summary: Based on an anonymous tumblr prompt.  Tormund notices Jon's reaction to being pinned down and offers to try something new. Healthy d/s whew.





	Tie me up

**Author's Note:**

> Based on:  
"Jonmund prompts? I have a zillion. But no one has done straight up kink yet, so here: Tormund can see that Jon likes it when Tormund manhandles him and holds him down. He suggests they take it further and Jon is down with it. tl;dr: Tormund ties Jon up and sexy times happen."
> 
> Beta by Jennie_D thank you so much!!!  
Art by me  
Find me at http://szamanita.tumblr.com and @FreeFolkMetal on twitter :)

It was during their morning hunt when Jon complained that he missed sparring with the Crows. Tormund raised his eyebrow at the statement and asked why couldn’t they spar together.

Jon seemed quite surprised by the offer, and for some reason almost reluctant.

So here they are now, standing opposite each other. They’ve moved quite some way from the Free Folk camp, not wanting any onlookers to watch them. The rumour of their chiefs sparring would spread among the clan faster than a fire, bringing unneeded spectators. Here there is only snow, wind and their matching glares.

His eyes trained on the smaller man in front of him. But the size can’t fool him. Only an idiot would underestimate Jon Snow in combat. The speed and raw skill of the former Crow commander when he dodges his well-aimed punches is spectacular. Tormund’s big, and he’s quite fast for a man his size, but it’s never deceived Jon. The man has always shown nothing but respect towards him. 

Tormund’s thrown from his thoughts when Jon sidesteps him and his fist connects with Tormund’s side. Then the man instantly tries to move away.

The hit isn’t really painful, as they control their punches so as to not hurt each other. Tormund staggers back a little and uses the momentum to yank Jon by his furs. A second later, his man lands down on beaten snow with a loud noise.

Not giving him a chance to roll to a side, Tormund pins him down to the snow covered dirt with his weight. The look of utter disbelief at his actions on Jon’s face makes him laugh joyfully. The small crow tries to struggle free, but he stills when Tormund catches his wrists half punch and pins them to the ground.

Then he hears it.

A small, quiet whimper falls from Jon’s lips.

Not a whimper of pain, but rather of something that makes the inside of his gut stir at the sound.

Lips parted and eyes blown and needy for a split second before he moves his head to the side, avoiding Tormund’s eyes

He has to know what the man wants.

The grip on Jon's wrists tightens, moving them over the man's head. Tormund straddles the muscular thighs, pinning his man with all his weight.

This time he looks at Jon's face and sure enough, there is a raw, lusty need in his eyes. Tormund smirks at him and catches the struggling wrists into one hand. The other moves to cup the man’s bearded chin.

Jon absolutely freezes. All that can be heard is his gulp when Tormund slowly tilts his head up. “Now now Jon... you should know when to give up” he offers, observing.

“Tor...”

His hand moves down to Jon’s throat and he squeezes lightly. The reaction is instant. His husband’s hips buck and he can feel his hardness. Tormund’s smile turns dangerous and he aches as he suddenly knows what Jon may crave.

He leans over. “All this struggling. You behave so badly, worse than an animal,” he says conversationally. Jon's breath hitches. His grin is all teeth when he continues. “And you know what you do with misbehaving animals? You tie them down.” He finishes gravelly, breathing into the panting man’s ear. Jon’s reaction is exactly what he expected. The smaller man moans and flushes, embarrassed.

“Is this what you want, pup? Do you want me to tie you up?”

“_ Fuck. _ Tor-.”

“Answer the bloody question,” he growls and Jon whines, struggling again to get free, but he would have a better chance trying to move a mountain.

“Tormund.” A needy moan.

He squeezes his throat again, ever careful not to cause him harm.

Finally, a tiny, quiet whisper.

“Yes.”

Heat spreads through Tormund’s veins and he groans against Jon’s shoulder.

The Crow's always been so needy. Even though he’s been living with the Free Folk for almost a year, Tormund still has to remind him he’s free. That he’s wild just like the rest of them. That Jon can desire things freely. Those foolish southern customs have no meaning here in the Real North. The boy still seems to be embarrassed by his desires, and Tormund has to drill it into him to embrace them, to let the wild and untamed thing living in his heart free.

He knows his husband loves to be manhandled. Jon craves rough treatment, so it doesn’t really surprise him that he might want to be tied up, to give away the control to a person he trusts.

A small keening noise brings him back to the present. Jon is panting underneath him, face flushed and pupils blown. Such a beautiful sight.

“Listen, pretty thing,” he finally says lowly, knowing how much the tone of his voice can work on the man. “I let you go, and you go straight to our tent and shed your clothes. When I get back I want you all naked and pretty on the furs. Understood?” He squeezes Jon’s jaw for a good measure and the boy moans nodding.

“Understood?” he growls, squeezing harder. He can feel Jon’s cock twitching underneath him. What an eager thing he is.

“Yes,” Jon finally gasps and Tormund lets him go, slowly getting up.

Jon’s not moving, laying in the melting snow and breathing heavily.

Tormund looks down at him. “Well?”

That finally gets a reaction from his lover. Jon scrambles to get up, before hurrying in the direction of the camp.

Tormund smirks. He lets Jon go first because he knows were they to go together, the boy’s silent pleading would end up with him taking him hard against a tree. This way he can calm some the painful aching in his trousers.

He takes his time to get back to their tent, collecting some softer, lighter rope on his way from one of the spearwives, feeling he may need it.

When he opens their tent, the sight that greets him makes him freeze in wonder.

Naked Jon is lying sprawled on his back on top of a pile of furs, stroking his erection lazily. One hand ghosts over his hard nipples. With his lips parted and eyes heavy-lidded, he looks so blissed and content that Tormund’s mouth goes dry. Jon may appear soft and innocent like this, but Tormund knows it’s deceiving. The brat is thirsty, and craves attention during sex like he craves air for breathing.

“It’s not nice to start all alone,” Tormund murmurs, stepping inside and tying the flaps of their tent tightly. They don’t need any potential onlookers.

He turns around and Jon's breath hitches lightly. Tormund knows that he’s noticed the bundle of rope in his hands.

“Put your hands to your sides,” he says calmly, commanding.

But by the very look in Jon’s eyes, he knows the little shit won’t listen. And indeed, the hand on his cock grips tighter and the brat all but moans rolling his head back and baring the pale neck to him.

_ Oh.. _.

So this is how you want to play.

He hums to himself, seemingly unfazed, and comes over to the boy. Jon’s trying to keep his face straight, but a full-body shiver betrays him. Tormund chooses to ignore it. He leans over and grabs the brat's wrists just like before, but this time he pins them above his head, getting a yelp from Jon. 

"Listen to me now, and listen carefully. If you find that anything I do causes you discomfort, I need you to let me know. Give me white to go and black to stop. Alright?" He says this calmly, needing Jon to understand.

Jon looks at him and nods "Alright."

Tormund smiles fondly for a second and brings Jon’s wrists together and secures them with a snug knot, careful not to tie it too tight and cut off his blood flow. Jon’s squirming underneath him all but stops when Tormund yanks his hands, securing them to the tent pole.

“Stay,” he growls, and the bound man moans at the command. Gods, he’s so _ fucking _ needy. He leans back a bit, maintaining eye contact, and slowly runs his fingers over Jon’s arms, noticing the shivers going through the man.

“Tormund…” The boy whimpers and his voice is almost cracking, the word punched from his throat.

He says nothing, his fingers tracing lower and lower, but avoiding all the possible places where Jon might want his touch. He skips his nipples, tracing down his sweaty abs. Jon’s breath hitches and he has to stop himself from smirking at the disappointed sound the man under him makes when his fingers skip his groin and move lower down to his milky thighs. Jon shivers at the contact with a sensitive flesh there and huffs impatiently. This time he can’t stop a dark grin from coming to his lips.

Finally, his hands reach Jon’s ankles and it must be the very moment when Jon realises what’s coming. The wild thing bucks, trying to spread his legs but to no avail when he grabs them with ease, and uses another length of rope to bind his feet together.

He gets up to undress layers of hides and furs, and watches Jon give his bindings experimental tugs. The rope holds strong, keeping his hands and wrists together. It seems to get to him just now that he can’t really move and is at Tormund’s mercy. His smile turns all but wolfish when Jon look at him.

He moves to straddle the man’s thighs, having removed his coat but leaving his breeches on. Hands on the sides of Jon’s head, he leans over and breaths into the man’s ear.

“Is this what you want?”

His answer is a full-body shiver that goes through Jon and a needy keen that goes straight to Tormund’s aching length. 

But it’s not enough. He’s known that Jon craves a strong hand from their very first intimate moments. The brat loves to challenge him, his eyes always so wild and daring.

So he’s not surprised that when his hand move to grab at the black locks, Jon moans, a deep and rolling sound, and tries to lean to what must be quite a painful pull.

“I asked you, if that’s what you wanted,” his voice a low growl.

But Jon just smirks at him. Challenge clear in his dark eyes. 

"White."

Tormund yanks his head by the hair to the side sharply and a painful yelp falls from Jon’s lips, but only a second later the greedy thing is baring his long and pale neck to him. His heated gaze daring.

But he’s not about to fall for that, not today. Today the brat can try all he wants but it won’t work on him.

So instead of his lips falling to Jon’s neck, his hand goes to the man’s erection and touches it ever so lightly.

“Tormund, fuck,” Jon groans and bucks his hips but Tormund just chuckles and moves his hand away, not giving him any friction.

“You’re so insatiable,” he finally says and Jon huffs. The statement, for some reason, makes him embarrassed. Tormund doesn't pay it any mind, he’s known Jon long enough to know the man likes certain forms of humiliation. He wouldn’t be here, in this position, sprawled for Tormund like a fucking feast, if he didn’t. Gods, he’s so painfully hard for the former Crow.

Oh, but he can wait.

His hand finally wraps around Jon’s swollen cock; he enjoys holding it, Jon has a pretty cock, cut unlike his, the length and girth nicely proportioned. The thing is twitching but his grip is light, barely there.

Let’s see just how _ wild _ he can get his lover.

It only gets a couple of feather-light touches to have him bucking, keening high and moaning, but as soon as he does, Tormund’s touch disappears again.

The annoyed look that he gets makes him chuckle lowly at Jon’s pulling on his restraints, as if believing there is anything he can do. 

"Tormund!"

"Yes, love?" he leans over and breaths some hot air over the painful-looking manhood.

Jon doesn't respond, not verbally, but his hips are shaking and his swollen cock twitches, leaking over the tout and spasming muscles of his stomach.

Tormund loves nothing more than to watch the man unravel, to see Jon slowly lose all coherence, to let his desire control him.

His fingers reach for Jon's hardness again, tracing the thick vein underneath, pulling on the soft skin gently. Too light, never enough.

His husband mewls, bucking again, and one more time Tormund’s touch goes away, edging the man. He sends Jon a disapproving look, but the boy bares his teeth at him.

Oh good, he’s starting to go wild.

"You know," Tormund starts conversationally, fingers wrapping around the throbbing length a bit firmer this time, "I don't really need to tell you the rules of our little game here, and yet you seem to break them anyway. We can't have that, now do we?" He moves so that more of his weight is on Jon's thighs. and his free hand grabs the pale, scarred hip of his lover to hold him down.

And sure enough, Jon tries to buck his hips again and growls at him when he doesn't move even a quarter of an inch. A lazy, dangerous grin appears on his face. Jon's muscles spasm when he finally gives up and lays down with an annoyed huff.

"There you go, good boy," Tormund purrs and strokes the cock in his hand gently, never putting enough pressure for it to feel the way Jon wants.

"Fuck you," Jon groans out, eyes dark and stormy.

"Maybe some time, but not today." He strokes his cock just a bit harder. "Today you're mine."

Jon closes his eyes and cries out; the sound is beautiful to Tormund’s ears.

"Today you're mine to do whatever it pleases me," he says huskily, loving the needy sounds coming from his lover.

He keeps stroking Jon's cock, the pressure agonizingly light. It has the boy panting and squeezing his eyes shut. He's delicious like this; the muscles in his arms trembling, those full lips, swollen from biting them, pecs and abs glistening with sweat. 

Tormund’s hand on Jon's hip holds the smaller man down, and the frustration from not being able to get any more friction is evident when Jon’s eyes shot open and the amount of desperate want and _ need _ in them takes him aback.

To think that this proud and brave man, so strong and defiant, willingly gives away all control to him; moreover, he craves him to take it. It makes something inside Tormund’s gut squirm and fill him with scorching heat.

The very sight of him, sprawled and panting, all his, makes him ache with desire.

His hand is wet with precum, the very proof of Jon's lust, but he keeps stroking him, teasing the throbbing length, smirking at the desperate Crow.

"Tor-" The deep, rolling moan escapes the plush lips and Tormund’s nostrils flare, finding it harder and harder not to take Jon and take him hard. The boy keeps trying to buck his hips still, seemingly not caring that he has no chance at it; his muscles tout and stressed under his palm.

"Colour?"

"White, _ ah. _"

"Relax. You're not going anywhere," he says darkly, his voice laced with a threat.

“Fuck,” Jon’s voice is wrecked as Tormund pumps his cock with slow movements of his wrists.

And then it comes

The needy sob.

His hand leaves the throbbing length and Tormund sits back, looking down at the man and arching an eyebrow. Gods he loves to listen to the sounds the boy makes. For someone who normally keeps to quiet brooding, the boy is exceptionally vocal in bed. And even after all this time, still gets embarrassed, Tormund notes smugly, observing how very flushed Jon's face has gotten.

He leaves the man's hip, noting the dark bruise his hand has left there, feeling a rush of possessiveness at the idea of leaving marks on Jon.

With that idea in mind, he leans forward and sucks one of Jon's hard nipples into his mouth and worries at the other with small pinches of his fingers.

Jon whines again and arches into his touch. "So needy," he breathes hotly against the man's rapid heartbeat. "So greedy for this mix of pleasure and pain, aren't you?" and the little thing is squirming.

Tormund looks up at Jon and he's breathing hard but still refuses to answer.

His hands move to grasp the front of Jon's throat and he puts pressure there, a warning. “Aren’t you?” He repeats, baring his teeth in a snarl.

“Yes,” he finally breathes and Tormund’s pleased. The pressure disappears and instead, he licks and nips Jon’s neck knowing that there will be dark love bites blooming on his skin. Marking him as his and visible for everyone to see. 

He moves lower and bites the spot where the elegant neck meets the shoulder, eliciting a sharp groan from his lover. 

“Tormund, please.” 

_ Finally. _

His grin is predatory when he raises his face to meet Jon’s pleading gaze.

“Please what?” he moves his hand closer to Jon’s groin. A promise of a reward.

“Please, I need to come,” The Little Crow finally breaks sobbing and tugs at his restraints, his stomach covered with his precum.

“Do you now?” He asks teasingly.

“Yes, please, please, I’m so hard, _ please. _” The man’s wrecked and pliant. Begging, shame all but forgotten. This is how Tormund likes him the best; completely untamed, not feeling guilt for stating his desires.

The hand ghosting around the swollen cock returns, but this time he grips Jon tightly and jerks him roughly and fast. Jon hisses a long note that soon turns into a groan and a shout when he spills all over Tormund’s hand.

He watches absorbed as Jon’s body gets wrecked with a series of tremors and the boy pants loudly, eyes rolled back and sweaty locks plastered on his face.

So gorgeous.

It takes Jon quite a while to come down from what must have been quite a powerful orgasm and Tormund’s grinning at him pleased with himself. Then he produces a dagger and cuts the rope securing the younger man’s wrists. He brings Jon’s hands to his mouth to kiss and massage the reddened skin. He waits till Jon’s breathing calms down some and leans to plaster a gentle kiss on his lips. Jon sighs and breathes into it, returning the kiss sloppily. But hunger is still evident in the way he tries to lick into Tormund’s lips.

He’s about to get up to clean him, but Jon’s hand catches his. “Please.” 

He raises his eyebrow at the wreck of a man in front of him.

“You’re still- I mean-”

A smug grin comes to his face as he looks at the blubbering mess of a man. He leans once more to breathe in Jon’s ear. “The little naughty thing wants to please me, is that it?” he asks and ruts against the boy’s thigh, letting him feel his hardness.

Half lidded eyes gaze up at him “Fuck me.” Not a question, not a pleading, but an order. “Make me cum on your cock.” He growls.

A wolfish grin comes back to Tormund’s face. He loves his husband so much like this. Eager and ready to state what he wants.

His hand moves to his breaches and he pulls the clothing down to free his painful erection. Jon's eyes move from his face to his cock and the man licks his lips hungrily.

“Aww, the Little Crow wants my big cock in his mouth?” he teases. Jon nods breathlessly.

"Colo-"

"White," comes the instant reply.

He gets up and Jon moans in disappointment at the weight leaving his thighs. The man quiets down when his body gets flipped and Tormund grabs his arms and binds his wrists on his lower back with more rope.

“You don’t need hands for it, naughty thing. You have lips fuller than those southern whores. Come and put them to some good use,” he says, standing in front of the bound man.

Jon whimpers at his words but raises from his position obediently and kneels in front of him as comfortably as his bindings let him. He wets his lips before opening it and looking at Tormund darkly.

Fuck, the sight is so depraved and erotic. “Go on, suck,” he orders and Jon’s eyes flutter shut and he dips his head to taste the precum glistening on the slit of his cock.

“That’s it, go on, good boy,” he praises a bit breathlessly when the wet hear engulfs him. Tormund runs his fingers through Jon’s curls, massaging the boy’s scalp and observing the plush lips wrapping around the leaking head.

Jon sucks softly, hollowing his cheeks and a groan falls from his lips. Dark eyes open to look at him, pleadingly. He can tell that the boy wants something, but is reluctant to voice it. Interesting.

“Out with it, what do you want, little thing?”

Jon doesn’t respond at first, bobbing his head and pleasing him with his mouth and tongue. Then the bound man stops and his wet cock falls from his husband’s mouth; a string of saliva runs down Jon’s chin and he moves to swipe it with his thumb, making his lover shudder.

“Could you-” Jon starts but stops and blushes, his eyes skipping to the site. Instead, he closes his eyes and opens his mouth wider.

Oh.

His cock twitches and his breath hitches in his throat. Jon’s shoulders shudder at the noise but he stays in the same position.

“You want me to fuck your throat?” Tormund purrs and Jon nods his head, embarrassed. “What a good thing you are,” he says gravelly and presses his cock slowly into the welcoming heat of Jon’s mouth. His grip in Jon’s hair tightens and Tormund knows it should be painful to the man but no complaint is raised.

He bucks his hips lightly, and Jon’s breathing through his nose loudly, trying to stop his throat from convulsing around Tormund’s length.

“So good,” he praises and rams his cock into Jon’s throat harder, the boy whimpering needily around him. He sets a pace of slow and deep thrusts, careful not to cause the younger man any unnecessary pain.

Tormund threads his fingers through the black curls, collecting them in his fist until it forms a tail. Then he twists his hand and Jon groans loudly at the sudden pain, sucking on his cock strongly.

Of course, he’d love to have his hair pulled, the little pain slut. He can feel the evidence of it when a drop of precum form from Jon’s once again leaking cock hits his bare foot.

He has to stop, or else he won’t be able to give Jon what he wants. A few more thrusts and he pulls out, a disappointed sound falling from the used lips.

“Now, now, stop whimpering, pup. Lay down, I need to feel you, pretty thing,“ Tormund whispers, voice low. He’s sure that Jon can hear the raw need and hunger in it, but he’s not able to mask it at this point.

He watches as Jon tries to lay down on his back and moves his hands so they won’t be in the way. “Not like this,” he chuckles and flips the man so he’s lying on his stomach.

Jon blushes but says nothing. He can tell that the man wants to spread his legs but the bindings prevent that. Jon sends him a mischievous look and lowers his torso so that his butt will look more enticing to him.

Oh, and it is. The little shit knows that he loves his round and firm arse.

He removes his breeches completely and comes over to where Jon’s lying and looking at him.

Tormund’s hands run over the milky white flesh, making Jon grind back into him. He can’t help but laugh and his husband looks back at him questioningly.

“Your eagerness will never stop surprising me, Little Crow. Whores could learn from you, I’m sure of it.” 

“Fuck, Tor, please,” he mewls at the humiliating words.

Tormund curses under his breath, kneading the soft flesh and marvelling at the firmness. Then he smirks. His hand leaves the cheek and falls back on it with a loud smack that has Jon moaning at the sudden pain. The man tries to bury his face in the furs, panting and whimpering into them when a second smack hits his backside.

Tormund rubs at it, massaging the pain away and warming the flushed skin. He notices how Jon’s fingers are twitching, searching for something to grab onto, but finding no purchase. He grabs the oil flask standing on a small table and slickens his fingers. Jon’s been waiting long enough and Tormund is finding himself slowly losing patience as well.

He runs his fingers around Jon’s entrance, spreading his cheeks with his other hand, massaging the area and listening to his husband’s soft whimpers and sighs.

But then Jon grinds back impatiently and he smacks him again, noticing the red skin in the shape of his hand. “Stay. You’re impossible,” he growls and the boy stills at the sound of his voice.

Good.

Then he dips one finger inside of him and Jon shudders at the intrusion but welcomes it all the same with a low moan. He moves his other hand to put it on the boy’s wrists to still him as he works him open. Jon’s breathing is laboured and his panting, shuddering every other moment. Gods, so greedy.

He soon adds another finger and the man whines, grinds his ass back, trying to fuck himself on his fingers. Tormund groans lowly at the action.

“Tormund, please, I-” a shuddering moan interrupts him. “I need it, fuck.”

“You’re not ready,” he states, his own breathing heavy.

Jon whines and keens, small spasms going through his spine and despite him not being ready, Tormund finds himself really close to just saying fuck it and pounding into the smaller man.

He adds a third digit to the previous two and Jon’s a wreck, trying to get his hand deeper into him, thirsty, impatient.. Fuck. Tormund spreads his fingers trying to stretch the boy as fast as possible and Jon shudders at the feeling of getting filled.

“Please, please, please, _ fuck- _ Fuck me,” Jon’s begging has him almost feral. Tormund finally curls his fingers, hitting a spot he’s been purposefully avoiding.

Jon’s reaction is a loud shout and the arching of his back when the man curses under his breath, panting and giving Tormund dirty looks from behind a curtain of sweaty locks.

“Will you _ fucking _ fuck me already?” Jon snarls and Tormund chuckles darkly while removing his fingers carefully.

The tied man makes a sound at the loss but groans when Tormund pushes his lubed cock inside of him. He has to take a moment to calm his breathing because of just how _ tight _ Jon still is around him despite the stretching.

He moves his hand around the man's chest, holding him up till Jon's rests against him. He thrusts into him slowly and Jon's moan vibrates through him. Tormund moves his other hand and wraps it just under Jon's jaw, squeezing lightly, carefully; Jon shudders and whines bucking his hips down onto him.

"Colour?" he asks, panting.

"White, please, please, _ harder. _" a mewl.

He sets a slow pace, ignoring, Jon's pleading and still stretching the man, trying to sheath himself fully inside him.

Tormund finally hits his balls against Jon’s flesh, gritting his teeth and growling at the tightness; his hand leaves the bruised throat and reaches to Jon’s locks instead. He runs his fingers through them for a moment, marvelling at the beauty. Then twists and collects them into his hand and _ pulls. _

The sound that Jon makes is absolutely _ ruined. _

His body goes rigid and he arches up when Tormund pulls on his hair. His continuous moan turns into a scream when Tormund sets a fast punishing pace and pounds into him; hitting his prostate with every thrust and making his cock drip on their furs

He’s growling and panting, fucking the smaller man roughly. At one point he pulls Jon’s head to a side, to see his face, and it almost makes him come on the spot.

Jon has his eyes rolled back, and blissed-out expression is adorning his handsome features. The man focuses his dark eyes on him and a hoarse sob leaves his self-abused lips. “Tormund-” The needy mess calls his name among the sobs and he’s so close. He knows that Jon is too by the tremors that run through the smaller man. His hand lets go off Jon’s tangled hair and wraps instead around the boy's cock, pumping it along with his hips.

Finally, after a few moves of his hand, Jon’s moaning stills and a powerful shudder goes through his tired body. Tormund hurries his arm to catch him from falling face first. Then he’s cumming only moments later with how Jon’s been tightening around him with the orgasm running through the man. He growls through his release, thrusting only a few more times and then pulling out to roll next to his husband.

They’re both breathing hard but Jon looks blissed out and content. Tormund grabs his knife and releases his tired lover. He holds him softly and lays them down so that Jon’s curled next to him but still in his arms. 

“There you are, you did so good, my love…” he murmurs into Jon’s black locks and lays soothing kisses over his hair and face. He wants to ask him teasingly if he’s satisfied now, but his expression goes soft and his heart warms, for Jon’s eyes are closed and the man is breathing evenly, having fallen asleep already in his arms.

He chuckles to himself quietly and wants to clean his husband up. But he doesn’t have the heart to wake him up after everything they’ve been through.

Tormund carefully lays Jon down next to him and wraps his arms around the smaller man, knowing that Jon loves to wake up feeling warm and safe. Finally, he closes his eyes and drifts to sleep to the sound of Jon’s steady heartbeat.

  



End file.
